February You, March Me
by NextStop.Happiness
Summary: A parcel mishap, young adulthood misunderstandings and accusations of perverted behavior are the beginnings to how Eren Jaeger introduced himself to his first love. AU. Rated M.


**A/N: Hello, everyone. Oh my God, it just feels REALLY awkward typing an introduction like this when I haven't done it in so long. Lol. After 3 years of trying to write and being unable to come up with anything, I think I finally struck inspiration after joining the Attack on Titan fandom!**

**This story is inspired by various Korean pop music videos that I have watched, as well as the Korean movie, My Sassy Girl featuring Jun Ji-Hyun and Cha Tae-Hyun. After writing "My Fair Lady" 3 years ago, I wanted to write another story in the romantic-comedy-ish genre but had no idea how to do it well with Max and Fang from "Maximum Ride". Somehow, I get a kick out of writing for Eren and his leading lady though. ;) I wonder why? **

**Before you continue on, I do want to apologize for making the characters slightly out of character. However, I want to portray Eren and the gang in a completely different manner. Aside from how they clearly behave in the manga/anime, I think it's also important to write about how they will mature eventually, regardless of whether they are in an alternate universe, or not.**

**Enjoy! ^^ **

**P.S. I also hope my writing has improved a bit from 2012. LOL. **

* * *

_Welcome __to: February You, March Me_

_You Are Visitor #: 4, 000, 201_  
_December 12__th__, 2014_

_Happy December, everyone! (: _

_I hope everyone managed to survive their Fall semester, kicked __those final exams in the nuts and left __them screaming in pain. Well, except for those who are under my terrible rule in __English __tutorials at __Sina __University: __I'm sending a warning __out __right now that I am __**not**__ going to go easy on the marking for your finals. __Even if Baldy claims that he will give __the most fucked-up of undergraduate papers a C-. __Just a head's-up for y'all __that I'm a ruthless asshole. Deal with it._

_Just kidding. Or am I? (;_

_Secondly, if my fellow readers have taken note of the discreetly placed anecdotes inserted into my recent blog posts, you probably guessed correctly. At long last, I will no longer have to place random puns in paragraphs of text that make absolutely no sense._

_Lights finally gathered up his courage to propose to Prayer, and I couldn't be happier for the two of them. Please give a warm round of virtual applause to the both of them for their upcoming nuptials! :O Yes, I just said "nuptials" – sue me if you must._

_Now, I know what you must be thinking. For the readers who have been following me for the past 4 years since I started this blog, you all are probably raging inside on why I would even bother mentioning her again. I can hear the complaints and threats already._

"_THIS IS 'FEBRUARY YOU, MARCH ME', YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I AM NEVER READING YOUR BLOG POSTS EVER AGAIN!"_

"_WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING TO PRAYER? WHAT THE FUCK."_

"_#YouDestroyedMyShip"_

"_#SaveScarf-E2K15"_

…_And the list goes on. To make matters worse, I'm only congratulating them on their engagement and you're making it sound as if I'm cheating on Red-Scarf JUST because I'm talking to Prayer. _

_Awkward Conversation ≠ Cheating. Come on, people: Take a hint! _

_I won't bother to re-write what happened two years ago. If you need a recollection of what happened and how I coped with my sorrows, I have a hyperlink right here that will direct you to that particular post – and sequential ones documenting my pitiful solo-man parties accompanied with a hundred-dollars worth of Korean BBQ take-out from the Korean restaurant on the corner of Main and Trost, and 6 bottles of fresh soju. Yep, you read correctly: six. _

_Shot after shot, I downed each cupful until I emptied everything: The bottles, the BBQ and the vomit that attacked the back of my throat with a vicious sting. My tears were the last to go as well. All wasted down the toilet – it was pretty clear to anyone who looked at me that I was a fucking mess. _

_But I think I should be cut some slack, shouldn't I? After all, if you had just broken up with your 1__st__ girlfriend of six years since high school, wouldn't you feel like shit as well? Prayer and I had built a stable foundation together when we dated, and had we been in better circumstances during the last few months of our relationship, I was certain we would be married and expecting our 1__st__ child by now._

_It was ironic because Prayer and I had dug a grave together. Yet, when she found a new nest to jump to, she sprouted wings that allowed her to leave whilst I couldn't climb out no matter how hard I tried._

_You all know the jist of my story. My grades were falling so much faster than the amount of credit I had left on my credit card, I grew frail because I lacked an appetite, I refused to clean or groom myself for several days straight, and my life was falling apart into ruins._

_Thank God for Red-Scarf though._

_After receiving multiple concerned text messages from Soldier and (Surprisingly) the Short Demon that I asked for a 2-week vacation from work, she stormed into my apartment. Literally having to drag me from my bed and pushing me into the bath tub to take a shower, she cleaned the dishes I had piled in the sink, vacuumed my tiny apartment and – dare I confess – blow-dried my hair to its former fabulous hazelnut glory._

_Mentally speaking, I still wasn't well enough to talk. But Red-Scarf decided to take me to our regular coffee shop for a drink. She told me, "Being cooped up at home is only beneficial when you're ill, E. You're not ill. You're perfectly healthy." However, being the reckless person that she was, there was absolutely no way for me to convince her to NOT sneak alcohol into a…well…supposedly "kid-friendly" eatery. _

_Remember, kids: Starbucks is NOT kid-friendly. Trust me. The washrooms are NOT kid-friendly. They are used for entirely different purposes that involve a lot of skin slapping on skin, and far more sexual innuendos than ever used in a ten-minute porn. _

_I even remember the conversation we had shared that night. Take note, people: I was only a third-year university student at the time, so my drinking skills weren't necessarily "up-to-par". Plus, I was working for the Short Demon. He definitely wasn't the type to reward his subordinates with happy hour drinks and appys. #StingyAsFuck_

_Hence to say, it was easy for me to get drunk. Hey, what can I say? Alcohol is my worst enemy, my last love and my truth serum. _

_To be honest, I don't even think Red-Scarf drank any alcohol that night. She ordered a latte, I think. LOL – so now that I think about it, maybe she was purposefully trying to get me drunk? _

_Regardless, I still remember the first question she had asked me. She asked, in that tender voice of hers, "E, you miss Prayer, don't you?" The moment she said that, though, I think I lost my shit completely. It was a rhetorical question that she clearly knew the answer to, but rather than yell at her, I broke down from the alcohol and I told her everything – about the 8 years we dated, the cute moments we shared, blah, blah, blah._

_Little did I know, though, that I hurt her so much more than I thought I would? _

_YES, I'm sorry; I'm an inconsiderate foul-mouthed young adult. Especially when drunk. _

_Eventually, Red-Scarf said that she saw so much of her former self in me. She pitied me. She knew how I felt. She knew how much it hurt to be lied to, to be taken advantage of. I was a living reincarnation of the painful memories that she tried so hard to suppress. _

_However, the main difference between she and I was that she was strong enough to take her experience and mold her into her persona of the strong-hearted "Iron Maiden". I was only the rusted piece of metal from a suit of supposedly invincible armour that was crumbling into oblivion._

_Red-Scarf was kind enough to accompany me through the night and act as my personal counselor by listening. But the morning after when I sobered up considerably, I remember her telling me that, "It gets better, E. It gets better. It's okay to cry. It's okay to be angry. Hell, it's even okay to scratch her face out of your old photos if it makes you happier. But eventually with time, you'll learn to let it go. Maybe one day, you'll even have an opportunity to be friends with her again." _

_And you know what? It did. Red-Scarf was right. Actually, she's right about a lot of things. Given time spent with Red-Scarf, I eventually confronted the embarrassment that I felt when I had to look Prayer in the eye. And now, Prayer, Lights and I are all on speaking terms now, albeit not the best of friends._

_Because of the fact that Red-Scarf has a scarily accurate premonition with these types of things, I also took note of one last piece of advice that she gave me before she departed for South Korea._

"_If an opportunity jumps out at you, take it. There will always be people who are better." – Red-Scarf, 2013_

_She never specifically stated it, but her message was implied. Essentially, she wanted to say, "Don't wait for me." _

_Today is a special day. Because of Red-Scarf's last words to me, I will be going on a blind date for the first time with someone that my parents have personally selected for me. Oh, God, they've been persuading me since Prayer and I broke-up (I never told them about Red-Scarf) and boy, did I make up various excuses to turn down their offers to meet 'pretty daughters/nieces from (Insert community center fitness program of your choice here)'._

_Want to hear an example?_

"_Soldier's bosses' girlfriend's dog died and I need to attend their funeral. My condolences to the vicious, ugly-as-a-rat's-anus chihuahua." _

_Although I do miss Red-Scarf greatly, these are foreseeable circumstances that I can (Unfortunately) never change. Because she's constantly on the run, I have no idea where her current location is right now. Who knows? Maybe she may never come back to Shiganshina for another 10 years. Worst case scenario, she might never come back in this century. If I don't act now, does this mean I'll have to wait until my next human life where she and I can formulate a relationship under better conditions?_

_Food for thought, huh?_

_Wish me luck, _

_E_

After scrolling through the post briefly for spelling mistakes, I double-tapped the touchpad and waited for the post to process. Heaving a sigh, I tuck my laptop back into its case and avert my eyes towards the enormous pile of booklets that I needed to process by next Monday.

This was the life that I lived – in order to pay off my living expenses, I was required to work multiple jobs.

Being a Teaching Assistant was one of them, but it is – by no means – an easy job. The professor that I worked for, Professor Dot Pixis, wasn't a "bad man". I didn't mind him, per say; he was kind enough, and his office was often filled with many weird-as-fuck gadgets and contraptions that I amused myself with when he invited me for afternoon tea. None of them were sexual, by the way.

I was only peeved at the fact that he abused his Teaching Assistants to their maximum capability, but I suppose this is what a Ph.D does, right? This is normal. This is their self-righteous asses at work. After all, all they did was deliver meaningless lectures that often made no sense or had no correlation to textbook content, which left me to deal with the tumultuous amount of problems that his students were left hanging with.

"Hmm, writing blog posts has been a lot more difficult lately." I comment absentmindedly to myself. Extending my hand, I pick up my green tea latte and take a small sip before setting it back onto the wooden table.

Sitting directly across from me, Levi Ackerman tears my croissant into bite-sized pieces. Yes, that's right – you read correctly. He's using his hands to fuck up my food. Then again, I'm expecting delicious grub in about half an hour so I can't really complain there. His fingers may have been occupied by the simple task on his plate, but his eyes were staring intensely at me.

If I wasn't acquainted with him for the past 4 years, I truly would've thought that he was gay.

"You make the same comment every single weekend we come here. Maybe your brain is too clogged up with shit." He replies in a snarky tone, briefly distracted by the sound of a sudden text message arrival.

Having the horrific experience of getting entrapped in his office with him for a four-day long weekend during my internship, I only smile smugly before throwing the rest of my unmarked papers back into my bag. "Come on now, Ackerman," Tauntingly, I tilt my head towards the side. "You can do better than that."

_I can't lie though. Petra changed him for the better. _I watch intently as his normally strict-looking facial expressions contort into a much friendlier (Albeit creepy-looking) grin. _But he's scaring me with his smirks. Or is he even attempting to smile? Does Levi Ackerman know HOW to smile? Does he even comprehend the word 'smile'? _

"Oh, I see." I mutter, chuckling. "Talking to your girlfriend?"

Levi's dead goldfish eyes narrow into a basilisks' gaze. Seriously, if you have no idea what that means, read the 2nd book in the Harry Potter franchise. It is absolutely deathly, and Levi absolutely reminds me of one. Maybe I should tell Jean about this, and change Levi's nickname from 'Short Demon' to 'Basilisk Midget Boy'. That would surely get the guys cracking up, especially Armin.

"None of your business."

Typical Levi behavior executed. No surprises at all.

"Um, clearly," I begin. "It is part of my business since you had absolutely NO idea that she was trying to flirt with you since she started working for you. I had to step in to help her, you unemotional twat."

Like I said, insulting the Short Demon wasn't something that I took lightly. Often times, there were far too many repercussions involved. I could never list all of the times he had punished me with both of my hands and feet, IN BROAD DAYLIGHT and IN FRONT OF THE GENERAL PUBLIC.

I guess it makes sense. Men have egos, myself included. The Short Demon has an ego, you see. It was just insanely larger than most males of the entire male population. The question that I now had to consider was: Why would Petra Ral, the most genuine and kind-hearted woman in the office (Let's be honest, she is the _only_ woman in the office who would give Levi the time of day and respond to his terrifying mood swings with black tea) agree to date him? Out of all the people she could have potentially dated, including poor, lovesick Oluo who sent her rose bouquets for weeks?

Hmm, I guess I'll never know the answer to that universally difficult question.

Stabbing his piece of chiffon cake violently with his fork, he brandishes the weapon towards me in a haphazard manner. "You're not getting that promotion, jack – "

_From: Mom (:  
__Sent At: 3:32 PM_

_Don't forget your dinner date, Eren!_

Suddenly losing his train of thought, Levi glances at my phone screen. "Heading somewhere?"

Turning away from the snow-stained window, I shoot him an apologetic smile. "Seeing the family tonight." Exiting the booth, I reach into the pocket of my denim jacket and whip out my wallet. I place a ten dollar bill onto the counter, whilst Levi only brushes crumbs off the corner of his lips with his trademark cravat.

I'm not going to lie. Levi Ackerman is an attractive guy. What? I can be honest, can't I? He has a pretty boy face for a fresh 30-something-year-old – sending the female building manager at our office in a crazed, lustful frenzy for anything that he touches with his finger – but his behavior exudes royalty. Maybe that's too much of a compliment. Instead, I'll just say that he behaves like a grandpa.

"It's on me today, alright? I'll see you Monday morning." Right on cue, the café owner, also my elementary school childhood friend, Sasha Braus, walks over in her trademark black and white uniform to pick up my tab.

"No change again, Eren?" She asks, smiling at me cheerfully with her ponytail bouncing behind her head.

"Two dollars for tips on top of an eighteen dollar meal." I reply, slinging my messenger bag across my body. "Hmm, nope, I think that worked out perfectly, to be honest."

Sasha lets out a scoff. "Why can't my boyfriend be more like you?! You're too much of a kind, generous soul."

"_**Ach **_–_Bullshit!_ – _**choo**_!"

Chuckling, I shake my head. "Somebody thinks otherwise. I'll text you later, Sasha."

Just as I was about to walk away from the table we shared, he suddenly calls out, "Oy, do you need a ride or some shit like that?"

Well, that was a sudden shock of the century. "Oh, the great Levi Ackerman is offering his precious gas in his convertible to take me to my final destination? I'm so flattered."

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "You're going to take it. Please," HE USED HIS MANNERS? HOLY CRAP, AM I LIVING IN THE CORRECT CENTURY?

"Just…allow…me." Okay, seriously, this is freaking me out. I raise a suspicious eyebrow and cross my arms across my chest. Jesus, why was he suddenly being so pushy? Let me tell you, he's NEVER like this. He has his nice moments, of course – like treating me to bubble tea rather than coffee – but seriously, the guy needs to take a hint.

Sensing my disbelief, he now starts to drop the 'F' bomb for me to have his offer nail itself into my head. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm being serious. I need to meet up with Petra in Quinta right now and I'm running late, so…if I 'drop you off', I have an excuse …"

Ah, so that's why. The man never fails to make someone feel so loved and so exploited at the same time. This is Levi Ackerman's charm.

"Oy, Eren, are you listening to me? Just let me give you a ride!"

Shaking my head, I adjust the toque atop of my head before pushing the door open. "I already called a taxi."

Just before I step out of the warm building, however, I turn back to look at him with a devilish grin on my face. "By the way, you never finished your sentence. So, I am supposed to get a promotion then?"

"Um…"

"Was it supposed to be a surprise?"

"Fuck you. Get out of here."

"I feel the love." I reply with a cheeky wink, forming a heart with my mitten-covered hands. "Thanks, man! Will I get my own office too?"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE."

* * *

Stepping out into the brisk air of Downtown Shiganshina, I almost want to run back into the café. Thankfully, the yellow taxi that I had called for earlier was now beckoning for me with its bright headlights.

Clambering aboard, I pull the seat belt over my body and adjust it accordingly as the driver glances at me through the rear-view mirror with kind, aged eyes. "Hello, sir. Where are you off to today?"

"Downtown Stohess, please."

As the taxi driver begins to silently make his way over Bridge Maria, I only watch as the scenery began to change before me. From the large, snow-dusted campus that made up Sina University, to the gleaming skyscraper buildings that often sat adjacent towards each other (With Levi's office somewhere on the sixty-fifth floor), and finally…

Shiganshina War Memorial Park. Ah, even the name brings back so many memories for me. Red-Scarf and I shared too many moments here so it makes it 'our place'. My face uplifts into a smile as some recollections from our past start playing in my mind like a black and white film.

Some were terribly embarrassing, of course…

"_I GOT A BOY ON MY CHIN!" _

"…_Thanks for knocking the ice-cream out of my hands, Eren. I was really looking forward to eating this!"_

Some slightly violent with a lot of kicking and threats…

"_You perverted, sick fuck!"_

But most made me happy, and in the words of Red-Scarf, she would say, "That's the most important thing, Eren. If you're unhappy, don't do it."

Eventually, the taxi driver eases his foot off of the gas pedal and pulls towards the curb, stopping directly in front of the restaurant. I reach into my wallet and place a crisp twenty-dollar bill into the taxi drivers' palm. "No change." I say with a smile, and hurriedly climb out.

The one thing that Red-Scarf said she loved about me was my selflessness. She had noticed this on the "pre-dates" that we went on. Albeit I tried pointing out that giving money in exchange for a service _wasn't_ much of a selfless act, she would say, 'It's the fact that you don't ask for change. Do you know how much two dollars could change a person's life? Two dollars could save a growing family some money, eventually.' A habit that the guys used to tease me for being too naïve is now something I covet and I doubt I would ever change it for the rest of my life.

Once inside the restaurant, I take a brief moment to examine the venue with shifty eyes and a somewhat overwhelming feeling of awe. Why my mother decided to pick this place, out of all the burger joints or fast-food chains that we could have went to, was a complete mystery to me.

It was dark, almost alluring, with the warm scent of vanilla and cinnamon combined wafting through the room. Lit dimly with a few candles that were placed on small chandeliers, and refined pieces of artwork featuring naked women and men, I wasn't sure whether I had walked into a strip club or into a burlesque show. It was raunchy, to say the least.

A sinking feeling of disappointment surged throughout my stomach as I curiously flip through the menu that they had placed at the front of the entrance for browsing convenience. I sift through the appetizers and the entrees – only to find that a small plate of calamari that even I could make at home would be two times the price of my 3-holed notebooks.

This was outrageous inflation right here. Seriously, I could marinade a steak in my own apartment with seasonings I want and sauces I want in the comfort of my pajamas.

Not to mention the fact that although the waitresses, albeit their pretty, make-up filled complexions, wore seemingly short black dresses for purposes other than guiding guests to their respective tables, the female and male patrons of the restaurant also dressed to impress with their sleek-looking tuxedos and high-heels.

Clearly, I had missed the mark in my denim jacket and plaid shirt. I've been personally conned by my mother into dressing poorly for a high-class restaurant.

I could've had the opportunity to dress better if I Googled the restaurant online yesterday or even today when I was at the café, but when Levi Ackerman calls you out for coffee, you know it isn't an opportunity to miss. Besides, arguing with him over whether I should deduct marks off of my students' examination papers for illegible writing was definitely much more amusing than deciding what type of cologne to wear.

"Excuse me?" Despite what I was actually thinking, I guess I should be debunking the fact that my fashion sense was downright terrible. On the contrary, the waitress – oh, shit, she's beginning to eye-rape me with her obnoxiously drawn eyeliner. Scanning me from head to toe, I was being observed by a flirtatious and extremely curvaceous x-ray.

"How may I help you, Sir?"

"I'm looking for someone who made reservations at 4:30 PM. The name should be under Carla."

"Ah, yes. This way, please."

Bringing a menu with her, she guides me away from the bustling kitchen towards a cozier area in the interior of the restaurant. Seated at the table already, were –

"Mom? Dad?"

My mother turns her attention away from my father, and she lets out a sigh of relief. Her eyes moisten with tears, and she gets up from the table and walks over towards me, steadily increasing in speed with outstretched arms.

Wow, eight years have gone by, just like that. Just from a simple comforting hug with my mother, I could tell that time has mellowed her down to a tee. Her fragile body has thinned from the medication that she was currently on after her surgery, and her long dark hair that would be tied into a complex fishtail braid whenever she did chores around the house was now let loose with wispy streaks of grey and white intermingled amongst the dark brown strands. However, there were definitely things that even time could never affect, such as the way that she would be overwhelmed in emotions from reunions.

Her arm reaches upwards to pat my toque-covered head gently. With a beaming, brilliant smile on her face and a few tears cascading down her pale face, she looks on, observing me. "I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you. You're no longer the immature eighteen-year-old teenager that lashes out; you're calm and collected…and you've grown to be so much like your father."

Whirling around, my mother beckons for my father. "Grisha, come on over and greet your son, won't you?"

Separating from my mother briefly, I eye my father in an almost cautious manner. It wasn't that I loved him any less than I did my mother, but he was the poster-man for stoicism and refinement for a very good reason. Walking towards me in a slow, rhythmic pace, he, too, stands before me and observes me for a few seconds before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

Time has exerted the same effect on my father, as well. This, too, is one thing that has changed. Dr. Grisha Jaeger was not like most fathers out there. Rather than connecting with me at a young age, he forced his totalitarian-like beliefs on me and skewed my way of thinking and tried to prevent me from following what my heart had wanted. To be blunt, our relationship was strained, kind of like an elastic band that you continued to stretch and stretch, until it reached its maximum tension and snapped in half.

But eventually, like most things, they all come to an understanding eventually.

That is something Red-Scarf taught me, although it was a hard lesson to take.

"Dad, I've missed you."

"…I've missed you, too, my son."

* * *

"So, tell me, Mom," I begin once we were all comfortably seated with the seat next to mine empty. "Who's this girl that you want me to meet?"

Whilst Dad only rolls his eyes, Mom launches into a full Wikipedia-worthy speech about the girl that was, I could only presume, late. "Oh, Eren, I think you will really like her. I've heard many great things about her."

Is it déjà vu that I felt like I was cast in a romantic comedy, with the protagonist (Yours truly) being forced into a blind date by his parents with a girl that was, inevitably, the total package? Even the entire description of the girl herself was too perfect to be considered real.

Maybe I'm living out 'My Sassy Girl', and eventually, the Girl that I'm supposed to meet ends up being Red-Scarf. Then, we'll eventually end up married in a quaint house near our workplaces, start a family with two children whom look like miniature versions of us and possibly get a house pet too – like a German shepherd. Ha, who am I kidding? That would be a nice fantasy though.

From that ten-minute description (Yes, I timed exactly), I was able to extract the most important points and ignore the filler sentences.

Number 1: She's a "wonderful girl"; although, I think I'll need to see for myself to see how "wonderful" she is.

Number 2: She's the same age as me. Expected, considering the fact that Mom would NEVER attempt to turn me into a pedophile and date someone who is eight years younger than me. Plus, that's just creepy, in my opinion. If you're up for it though, hey, go for it.

Number 3: She's the niece of Mom's best friend that she met at her community center cooking classes. Also expected. Since Mom has been recovering from her surgery, she's been taking up various types of lessons at the community center to improve herself mentally and spiritually. Cooking is something that I highly recommend: It's therapeutic. Plus, she'll be meeting with Dad's devilish horns if she tries to sign-up for anything extra strenuous, such as a spinning class.

Number 4: She's also very pretty. Hmm, I'd have to say that this is quite subjective, though, don't you think? Just sayin'.

Oh, God, I was trying so hard to pay attention. I really was, but hey, in this atmosphere, what else could I do? My dad, however, had something different in mind. Perceptive as always, he suddenly shocks me with a sudden declaration aside from asking me about my graduate studies.

"Normally, you'd decline us when your mother tried to invite you to these types of blind dates."

Heh, so he caught on. Chuckling nervously, I run a hand through my hair and pretend to be super immersed in the fine text printed on the menu. "So you noticed, huh?"

"Don't try to avoid the conversation!" My mother scolds haughtily, tapping the top of my head with her menu. Looking up, her eyes soften considerably, and she adds, "We are _your_ parents for a reason."

I reach my hand over to her clenched fist and pat it gently. "I take it that the medication that Dr. Hoover prescribed for you is easing the post-surgery pain?"

As Mom nods slowly, Dad then proceeds to enter fan-boy made and gush about his pupil. Ugh, here we go again. Is he going to compare us again like he normally does?

"Bertoldt did an excellent job extracting the tumour. He is one of the most skilled surgeons I have ever met in my entire career." Hesitantly, he leans back into his leather chair and cocks a rare smile. "Somehow," He drawls slowly. _Ugh, here we go, here we go, here we go…_

"I'm glad you never went into Medicine like I did."

Wait. Hold up; what did my old man just say?

With an equally teasing smile, I only say, "Says the man who claimed that majoring in English would be a shitty post-secondary choice."

If Dad and I were still on opposite ends of the string, I'm sure he would have climbed over the table and grabbed the nearest sharp object (Which was his set of cutlery) to stab me repeatedly in the eye. But instead of growling at me for being rude and pretentious, my father only laughed. That's right; he laughed!

He's so much more open now: Friendly, open-minded, cheerful. These were adjectives that I swore to never use to describe my father when I was younger. I'm glad things were better between the two of us.

_See, Eren? Things are working out fine, now. _I could hear her saying this in the back of my mind, and unknowingly, I feel my cheeks start to flush red. I hope Mom and Dad only recognize this as flushing due to the influence of alcohol, and not from thinking about unnecessary things that may turn me on right now.

_Why aren't you mentioning me? Are you ashamed?_

_I think it's time you mentioned me, don't you think? Just a suggestion, you don't have to take it. Or, I might force you to._

"The thing is, Mom and Dad," I begin slowly. They both look at me intently. "Here's the answer to your previous question. After I broke up with my first girlfriend, I actually fell in love with another person. I just never brought her home, nor did I mention her to the both of you up until now."

"I never agreed to go on blind dates that you set up for me, as you already know." I continue. "It's not that I'm not thankful, I really am! But how could I when my heart wasn't even in the right mindset? It wouldn't be fair to you, it wouldn't be fair to my date and it wouldn't be fair to that girl as well."

Surprisingly, both of my parents didn't even react that strongly. Whilst my mother only stares at me with a widened mouth, my father takes this opportunity to ask gently, "And where is your heart now?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! (: If you have any constructive criticism/comments that you would like to make, feel free to let me know. Otherwise, see you in the next chapter! **


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